


As You Wish

by McBangle



Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Amalas (The Royal Romance), BAMF Olivia Nevrakis, BAMF Women, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Misunderstandings, The Princess Bride References, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/pseuds/McBangle
Summary: Olivia's escape from captivity was invigorating, thanks to Amalas. She's still thinking about her that evening when she's pleasantly surprised to get an invitation from the Queen of Spies.
Relationships: Amalas/Olivia Nevrakis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Olivia and Amalas had so much chemistry in TRH Book 3, Chapter 14, it killed me!

Olivia stretches herself across her bed and hums in bliss. There’s nothing quite like the feel of one’s own bed after several days in captivity. She’s pleasantly achy after a hearty dagger-throwing session. Obviously, she’d rushed to her practice dungeon as soon as she returned to Lythikos. The bastards had confiscated all the daggers she’d had on her when they captured her, so she only had thin air to practice with in her cell.

She’ll find a way to make Kovac pay, but on her own schedule. She’ll wait until the time is right, after he’s had a few years of hearing her footsteps behind him and seeing her shadow around every corner. When he finally lets his guard down and begins to convince himself he was only imagining her stalking him – that’s when she’ll strike.

She can’t deny that the escape was invigorating; the most fun she’s had since Riley and Hana’s wedding. She supposes she must give some of the credit to Amalas. Riley and her crew have grown on her (or most of them have, anyway) but their solutions to every problem are to either throw a party or go on tour. It was nice to team up with someone who could hold her own in a real fight. Olivia had found it difficult to take her eyes off Amalas today, although she’ll never admit it. Riley, for one, would never let her hear the end of it.

Her phone buzzes with a video chat invitation; no doubt Riley and Hana plotting next steps to retrieve their daughter from that contemptible buffoon Barthelemy. If she could have her way, she’d put his head on a pike but apparently that’s not “diplomatic” enough for Liam’s taste.

She retrieves her phone from its charging pad and is surprised to find that the call is not from Riley, but Amalas herself. She steels her face against any sign of unseemly excitement and answers the call. “I don’t recall giving you this number,” Olivia remarks in welcome.

If Olivia’s opening gambit startles Amalas at all, she doesn’t show any signs of it. “You are speaking to the Queen of Spies, darling.”

Olivia snorts. “You’re brave to say that to a Nevrakis.”

Amalas smirks. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Olivia stifles a grin. Amalas has a smart mouth on her; Olivia rather likes it. “Did you call for a reason?” she counters.

“Of course.” Amalas smiles charitably. “I wanted to see if you felt like thanking me for saving your sorry self today. I’m sorry to say that your friends, while excellent party planners, could not possibly have pulled off that heist without me.”

Olivia nods in silent agreement with Amalas’s assessment. “You might want to get your memory checked,” she suggests. “I believe I already thanked you once before.”

“Oh yes, you did!” Amalas’s grin spreads widely across her face. “But it’s always such a pleasure to hear someone thank you twice.”

“Is Monterisso so dull that you have to entertain yourself by begging people to thank you?” Olivia checks her nails, holding her phone at arms’ length to assure that Amalas can see the gesture.

“Oh, don’t you worry about Monterisso,” Amalas replies. “Although…” She trails off, looking down for a beat. Her eyelashes brush fetchingly against her cheekbones for just a moment before she turns her gaze back toward her phone. “I’ll admit it was stimulating to fight side-by-side with someone who’s nearly my equal.”

_"More_ than your equal,” Olivia corrects her.

Amalas rolls her eyes. “You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But, well…” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I imagine we might both sharpen our skills if we practiced together sometime.”

Olivia furrows her brow. “Are you inviting me on a play date? Like a young child might have?”

Amalas laughs. “Only you would consider fight training to be for children.”

What an absurd statement. Olivia barely knows where to begin with that one. “In Lythikos children begin training for battle as soon as they can hold a dagger. Often before they can stand.”

“Of course they do.” Amalas smiles indulgently. “But why don’t we leave the children out of it this time? Meet me at the Monterisso train station tomorrow at 6 PM sharp. Wear something you can move in and bring a dinner outfit for afterwards. Do you have any food restrictions?”

Olivia starts. “Is this a play date or a date-date?”

Amalas shrugs. “We’re adults; we can call it whatever we want. If you want to call it play, I won’t object.” She raises an eyebrow.

Olivia’s cheeks warm. She’d thought she was agreeing to a fun sparring match, but dating is hardly her area of expertise. “I… haven’t been on a date since Liam’s social season,” she admits.

“Nor I since before my late husband passed,” Amalas offers. “I imagine that puts us on equal footing, doesn’t it?”

Olivia considers it. “A warrior should always be open to any new experience.”

Amalas smirks. “That’s certainly an approach to being asked on a date.”

What is Olivia getting herself into? This could be a mistake. It probably is. “You could be planning to poison my goblet,” she reasons.

Amalas tuts. “You’ve caught me out. A shame that all the years I spent building up immunity to iocaine power will go to waste.”

Olivia wrinkles her brow. “I’ve never heard of that poison. What are its properties?”

Amalas smiles. “I’ll tell you all I know about it over dinner.”

The prospect is tantalizing in more ways than one. “It’s a date,” Olivia agrees.

* * *

“…and he had put the poison in both goblets,” Amalas concludes before taking a sip of her own (presumably poison-free) wine.

“Of course he had!” Olivia enthusiastically slaps a hand across Amalas’s dining table. It’s a fine table: a simple, sturdy oak without any pointless frippery. It looks as though it has been passed down for centuries and could survive a few more. “That Roberts fellow would make an excellent warrior for Lythikos.”

“Or Monterisso,” Amalas counters.

Olivia scoffs. “I hardly imagine one of your hackers could defeat a master swordsperson in battle, let alone grapple a giant.”

“My spies wouldn’t need to resort to hand-to-hand combat,” Amalas returns. “They’d come prepared with knowledge of Inigo’s and Fezzik’s weaknesses. And they certainly wouldn’t be fooled by that ‘I am not left-handed’ ploy.”

“A Lythikos warrior would immediately recognize someone fighting with their nondominant hand,” Olivia pronounces. She savors the last spoonful of sorbet. Delicious. The entire meal had been outstanding: the perfect mix of protein, carbs and flavor for a post-workout meal.

The evening had begun with an excellent sparring session. Amalas’s attack moves are still elementary level, but she’s quick and so perceptive that Olivia could almost swear Amalas was predicting her moves. Amalas had even picked up on a few attacks over the course of the session. Olivia would say she’s eager for another go, but she’s always felt that admitting that she wants something is a form of weakness.

Amalas pushes back her chair and stands. “Are you done, then?”

Oh.

So soon?

“Is that how the movie ends?” Olivia blurts out. Stupid, stupid. That sort of over-eager excitement might be acceptable for someone far below her station, but it was mortifying for a Nevrakis.

“Oh no, we’re barely halfway through it.” Amalas rapidly crosses the distance between them and pulls Olivia to her feet. “But we can finish the rest of it at our next date.”

“Next…?”

Amalas smiles beguilingly up at Olivia through her eyelashes. There’s no denying that woman knows how to work her angles. “Only if you want a next date, of course.”

“I… I… yes!” Olivia stammers.

“You are adorable when you’re nervous.” Amalas trails a hand across Olivia’s cheek. It’s all Olivia can do to remain standing.

“No one has ever called me adorable in my life,” Olivia protests.

“Then someone ought to start.”

And then suddenly Amalas is cupping her neck. And then suddenly Amalas’s lips are on hers. And then suddenly Olivia is out of clever things to say because _she’s kissing Amalas and Amalas is kissing her_ and… and…

“You know…” Amalas nibbles a line of kisses down Olivia’s neck. “There’s another train back to Lythikos in the morning, if you’re not in a hurry.”

“No hurry at all.”

* * *

Amalas props herself up on one elbow and smiles down at Olivia the next morning. “So, was your king’s social season like that?”

Olivia barks out a laugh and wriggles contentedly in Amalas’s silk sheets. “Not exactly.”

Amalas hums thoughtfully. “Not enough horse races last night? Should I toss in a masquerade ball or two?”

Olivia chuckles and shakes her head.

Amalas raises one eyebrow sardonically. “Missing the sour apple tastings, are you?”

Olivia shoots upright. “Do not. Insult. The Cordonian Ruby.”

Amalas holds her arms up defensively. “Duly noted.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now officially canon divergent, because I didn't realize when I started plotting this thing out that the last few chapters of The Royal Heir took place over just a few days. Just assume that the same events have occurred, but over a few weeks instead of a few days.
> 
> This chapter is set just after TRH Book 3 Chapter 16, and before Chapter 17.

_Goddamn Barthelemy_. Olivia is so frustrated she could punch the air as she stomps out of the palace. If she’d known she’d be back today to show Lilly her mothers’ video, then she wouldn’t have visited yesterday.

Well. That may not be entirely true. She has a duty to her friends to check in on Lilly and make sure that bastard isn’t mistreating her, after all.

Still, that’s two days in a row that she’s had to put up with the sniveling, slimy fortune-seeker who legally kidnapped her friends’ child, and she feels dirty just thinking about it.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, Olivia strides directly to the Capitol train station, booking the next train to Monterisso on her phone as she goes. She shoots off a quick text to let Amalas know she’s on her way.

There’s nothing quite like vigorous sex to work out one’s frustrations, and Amalas has been more than accommodating these last few weeks. It’s as if she knows exactly what Olivia needs to relax: a fine meal, riveting conversation, a romp in the proverbial hay, maybe even a sparring session. Her time with Amalas has been delightful, almost shockingly so. It’s almost unbelievable that the queen of Monterisso would choose her for a bedmate after just a few, admittedly pleasurable, meetings.

Olivia knows her worth. She knows she’s conventionally attractive and would like to believe she’s sometimes even sexy. As the head of one of the Great Houses of Cordonia, she ought to be a great catch. But she seems to have gained a reputation as some sort of ice princess. Riley and Amalas have been the only people in a long time to make any effort to see past her façade. Sometimes Olivia can’t believe her luck to have stumbled into this arrangement with Amalas.

A short train ride later, Olivia waves at the Monterisso royal guards on her way inside Amalas’s castle. She’s become such a regular visitor that they all know her by name.

Right on schedule, a member of Amalas’ personal guard falls into step beside her. “The Queen’s expecting you,” Leila informs her without making so much as eye contact. Very professional. Nice. “She’s in the game room.”

“I know the way,” Olivia replies.

She sees just the tiniest hint of a smirk on Leila’s face. The guard wordlessly keeps pace with Olivia all the way to the game room, and then takes up station outside it as she opens the door.

Olivia’s heart rate picks up at the sight of Amalas studying a board game set up on a table. Then, she notices the small child seated across from Amalas. Olivia has never been good at estimating children’s ages, but the child appears older than Lilly and younger than Bertrand’s spawn. With a mop of brown curls and large brown eyes, the child is undeniably related to Amalas.

Ah. Olivia had nearly forgotten that Amalas has a son. The other times she’s visited, he’s been with a nanny, in lessons or already asleep; she’s never had to actually make nice with him before. It’s a bit inconvenient. Olivia doesn’t do children. Aside from Lilly, that is.

The boy notices her first. His eyes go wide, and he pulls on his mother’s sleeve. “Mummy? Who’s that?”

Amalas turns to look over her shoulder and smiles as soon as she sees Olivia, giving Olivia a strange fizzy feeling in her chest that she should probably ask a doctor about. “Amir, this is Mummy’s friend, Duchess Olivia Nevrakis of Lythikos.” Amalas pushes back from the table to rise and face Olivia. “Olivia, this is my son Amir, Crown Prince of Monterisso.”

Olivia clears her throat awkwardly. “Er, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She gives a sort of half bow, unsure what degree of formality is appropriate when meeting one’s friend-with-benefit’s son who also happens to be royalty.

The boy furrows his brow. “Duchess Olivia…” Olivia can tell the moment he recognizes her name. His face lights up and he practically bursts out of his chair, knocking it to the ground. “Ooh! Ooh! You’re Mummy’s superhero friend!”

Olivia raises one eyebrow and glances at Amalas, a smirk playing at her lips. “Superhero…?”

Amalas looks absolutely mortified. “I never called her a superhero!”

Amir bounces on his heels. “Mummy said you can do Kung Fu moves like _hi-yah! Yah!”_ He punches and kicks at the air.

Olivia grins widely. “I’m actually a master of multiple martial arts.” It’s nice to be recognized for her skills instead of her title and reputation.

“Will you teach me?” Amir pleads. “Mummy only lets me do dumb yoga and Tai Chi.”

“Really?” Well, that’s just wrong. Patently and obviously wrong. Clearly Olivia is going to need to intervene on the boy’s behalf. “A child your age ought to at least have trained with a sword by now!”

The boy looks so excited that he appears in danger of hyperventilation. “I can have a _sword?”_

“That’s enough sword talk for now.” Amalas shoots daggers at Olivia, albeit unfortunately only with her eyes. “Amir, don’t forget that we’re in the middle of a game. And please pick up the chair you knocked over.”

“But Mummy, I’m talking with Miss Olivia!” Amir protests.

“A Lythikan soldier always cleans up his messes.” Olivia steps closer to examine the board game. “Is that Risk? A fine strategy game for a future General.”

Amir dutifully sets the chair upright, sits down, and turns his attention to the board game. Not a moment later, though, he gasps dramatically, throwing a hand to his mouth. “You’re the one with the pet wolf! Do you really have a pet wolf? What’s its name? Can I meet it? Can I pet it? Can I have a wolf? Mummy, can I have a wolf?”

Amalas puts her head in her hands.

This kid might actually be alright.

* * *

The next morning, Olivia, Amalas and Amir are sharing a delicious breakfast of flatbread, olive oil, yogurt and fruit. Olivia’s refreshed and ready to face whatever latest scheme Barthelemy has cooked up. Amalas, on the other hand, is livid.

Amalas growls in frustration, setting down her teacup with a bit too much force. “I just keep thinking about how he stole their daughter from them just because they left the country to rescue you!”

“After he had me taken prisoner,” Olivia points out. She pops a grape in her mouth and savors the taste.

Amalas tears a piece of flatbread to crumbs, and then grabs another. “He probably told Kovac to take you across the border as a trap for Riley and Hana.”

“He would do that,” Olivia agrees.

“That ba-” Amalas catches herself, glancing at her young son happily stirring strawberries into his yogurt. “…Bad man,” she finishes. She leans across the table urgently. “When you lot take him down, however you do it, I want to be there.”

Olivia can practically feel her defenses rise. Amalas is a foreign national, after all. It’s one thing to vent her frustrations over someone Amalas knows very well to be their mutual enemy, it’s another entirely for Amalas to request to be present during a transfer of power. “Who said anything about taking him down?” she asks cautiously.

Amalas chuckles. “You didn’t need to say anything. If Riley and Hana could fight off assassins on their wedding day and force Bradshaw and Isabella out of Cordonia, then there’s no way they’d take Barthelemy’s stealing their child lying down.” She dips a corner of her flatbread in olive oil and nibbles at it. “Nor, I imagine, would your King sit idly by while Barthelemy tries to steal his throne.”

“Did your spies tell you that?” Olivia snaps suspiciously.

Amalas blinks. “My spies? More like my eyes. Your Riley’s determination and spirit have been celebrated by the Cordonian press, and any monarch would oppose attempts to unseat them.” She wrinkles her brow. “What’s this all about, now?”

“Why are you suddenly so eager to be in Cordonia at a politically unstable time?” Olivia counters.

“Unstable? What are you suggesting?” Amalas sets the remainder of her flatbread down on her plate and wipes her hands on her napkin.

_“If_ we do take Barthelemy down, Cordonia will be in chaos. It would be an ideal time for a foreign monarch to make a power play if they somehow managed to be present at the time. You remember what happened at the Last Apple Ball.”

“Are you actually comparing me to Bradshaw and Isabella right now?”

“Why do you want to be there when we take him down?” Olivia presses.

“Because he separated a child from her mothers!” Amalas shouts. Amir looks up from his plate in surprise. Amalas ruffles her son’s hair and lowers her voice. “After everything he’s done, I just want to see the look on Barthelemy’s face when he loses it all. No power plays. No political machinations. Just a mother wanting to see a villain punished.”

It’s a logical enough explanation. Under different circumstances, Olivia would probably accept it and move on. But there’s one other thing that’s been bothering her for some weeks now. Something she’s never voiced before but that she can’t seem to banish from her thoughts, no matter how she’s tried.

Olivia takes a deep, fortifying breath and lets it out. “I just find it odd that you took such a sudden interest in… in Lythikos. Especially after Barthelemy riled up calls for secession. Sometimes I wonder whether that timing truly was a coincidence.”

Amalas’s face turns stony. “Is that really what you think?” She gestures between them. “What you think this is all about?”

Olivia nods wordlessly.

Amalas drops her napkin on the table and points her finger at the door. There’s a dangerous fire in her eyes such as Olivia has never seen before. “Get. Out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter tonight. I probably won't post the next chapter until after Christmas, or maybe even after New Year's, depending on how quickly I write and how busy I am IRL.

Outgoing text message, Friday, 3:47 PM

Rough day. I’m catching the next train to Monterisso.

Amalas

I’ve alerted the guards. See you soon.

* * *

Saturday, 9:39 AM

Hi Miss Olivia, don’t forget you told me you’d teach me how to sword fight and introduce me to your pet wolf OK? Don’t tell Mummy I used her phone I’ll delete this text after I send it OK?

From Amir

* * *

Tuesday, 1:34 PM

Hi Miss Olivia, Mummy says your not friends anymore but when I fight with my friend Rafi I just tell him I’m sorry and then we’re friends again so you just have to tell Mummy your sorry and then you can be friends again and also bring your wolf and sword OK? From Amir

*Wolf emoji* *Crossed swords emoji* *Thumbs up emoji*

* * *

Thursday, 7:12 PM

Hi Miss Olivia, Mummy’s sorry she yelled at you so now you can tell her your sorry and you can be friends again OK? But don’t tell her I texted you I’m gonna delete this now so you can pretend it was your idea first. If you wanna thank me you can let me play with your pet wolf. Your friend Amir

*Thumbs up emoji* *Boy emoji*

* * *

Wednesday, 1:14 PM

Hi Miss Olivia, I had another idea I’ll tell Mummy I want a play date with your princess (even though I don’t wanna play with a baby, yuck) and then you can come visit the mean guy who took her from her moms and then you’ll see Mummy and tell her your sorry or maybe she’ll say sorry first and then we can all go to your castle and play with your pet wolf OK? Your friend Amir

*Thumbs up emoji* *Thumbs up emoji* *Thumbs up emoji*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amir is a bit of a matchmaker.
> 
> And/or really wants to play with that wolf.
> 
> A little from column A, a little from column B.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 of 4, bringing it in to a close! Sorry for the delay, the last 3 weeks have been crazy. Warning for mentions of violence, injury and medically-prescribed morphine.

Olivia awakens to see a ceiling not her own. She has a dull pain in her left side, something poking her right hand, and her head feels like it’s full of cotton balls. The ceiling is hideous, covered with water-stained acoustic tiles that neither she nor anyone she knows would ever select.

She closes her eyes and tries to remember where she is. She had been hunting down Vassilakis, Barthelemy’s final remaining toady. He’d shot at her just as she’d cornered him, but the idiot’s aim had been wide and low, grazing her side. She instinctively grabs her side at the memory of it, then hisses at the tender, stabbing pain. The last thing she remembers before she blacked out was tackling him and knocking the gun out of his grip.

As she opens her eyes and looks down across herself, her gown, bed, and the IV line in her right hand swim into focus. Ah. Clearly, she’s in a hospital. That must mean that one of her allies managed to capture Vassilakis and MEDEVAC’ed her here; she can’t imagine any of her adversaries would lift a finger to keep her from bleeding out on the ground.

She looks around the room, making her best effort at assessing the scene despite the fog in her brain. It appears to be an ordinary hospital room – aside from the beautiful woman sleeping in the chair to the right of her bed. Is it Artemis, come to welcome her to the eternal hunt? No, no. Olivia shakes her head, trying to clear it. That’s not right it’s… “’Malas?” she asks groggily.

Amalas awakens with a start. “You’re awake?”

“You’re here?” Olivia asks. “Why?”

Amalas rises from her chair and leans over Olivia’s hospital bed. “Well, not to steal your duchy if that’s what you’re implying.” Although she speaks in a chiding tone, she’s smiling fondly.

“’M sorry. Shouldn’t’ve said that,” Olivia mumbles. “Ugh. Why’s my brain so slow?”

“They gave you morphine for the pain.”

“No morphine,” Olivia groans. “Need to think clearly.”

Amalas nods. “I told that doctor you wouldn’t want it.” She presses a button on Olivia’s bed rail. “I’m buzzing the nurse so you can tell her yourself.”

“You’re the best, ’Malas,” Olivia says dopily. An alarm in the back of her head tells her that she’d just said something hideously embarrassing, but she can’t quite put her finger on why. Amalas doesn’t seem to mind at all, though: she’s smiling down at Olivia and stroking her hair in a way that’s really quite soothing…

* * *

The next time Olivia awakens, the pain in her side is much sharper but her head is blessedly clear – and Amalas is still there, reading a book by Olivia’s bedside.

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here when I woke up,” Olivia confesses.

Amalas shuts her book with a snap and steps closer to Olivia with a smile. “Of course I am. Feeling better?”

“My side hurts where the bastard shot me, but I can think clearly now so yes, much better,” Olivia replies. “How long have you been here?”

“I caught the first train as soon as I heard you’d been shot,” Amalas recounts. “I got here while you were in the postoperative recovery room. The nurses wouldn’t let me in at first, but they relented after I convinced your king to pull a few strings. I suspect your medical team still resents me for that, but I did what I had to do.”

Olivia chuckles. “And what leverage did you use to convince Liam to bend hospital protocols for you?”

“None!” Amalas places a hand to her heart innocently. “I _may_ have threatened to tell your friend Riley that he allowed her very best friend to wither away alone in a hospital room after taking a bullet on his behalf… But I’m sure he would have helped you regardless.”

“He may have,” Olivia allows, “but the threat probably helped.” She clears her throat. “Have I apologized yet for accusing you of… well…” She trails off, surprisingly at a loss of words.

“You have indeed, and I’m not letting you take it back now that you’re _compos mentis.”_ Amalas half-sits on the edge of Olivia’s bed. Her expression changes to a serious one. “Did you really think I was using you?”

“No. Well, maybe.” Olivia stumbles over her words. Why is explaining herself so difficult sometimes? “Well. We were using each other, weren’t we?”

Amalas blinks repeatedly. “Were we?”

“For sex,” Olivia explains. “To burn off our nervous energy.”

Amalas cocks her head to the side and raises one eyebrow. _“Were_ we?”

“Ah… er…” Perhaps Olivia still has some of the morphine in her system. This conversation isn’t entirely making sense to her. “…Weren’t we?”

Amalas shakes her head ruefully. “I don’t know about you, but if all I was looking for was a sexual partner, I could easily have found many willing participants much closer to my home. They probably would have been less paranoid, too.”

“I’m not paranoid,” Olivia protests, “I’m constantly on guard, as any good warrior should be.”

“A good warrior knows the difference between the battlefield and the bedroom,” Amalas counters. “Look.” She examines her hands for a long beat, and then looks up at Olivia again. “Whatever the reason things started up between us, I’ve grown fond of you and I’d thought perhaps that you might feel the same.”

“Oh.” Olivia tries to fit this new piece of information in her brain. “You mean _you_ …” She trails off, at a loss.

Amalas’ face shutters. She shakes her head, her hair falling across her face. “I see I misread the situation.” She stands up and begins to turn away.

“No! Wait! Amalas!” Olivia grabs Amalas’ hand in her own. “You’re not… you didn’t misread it. I… Forgive me. I’m not used to people liking me. People don’t tend to do that.”

Amalas snorts. “I’m starting to understand why your Riley had to work so hard to befriend you.”

“She wore me down,” Olivia mutters.

Amalas snorts. “Scootch over.”

Olivia looks at her blankly.

“Scootch.” Amalas gestures her hands in a shooing motion.

Olivia slides over to her left, unsure what Amalas is up to.

Amalas deftly adjusts the bed rail and settles herself beside Olivia on the hospital bed. “Do you really think you’re not worthy of friendship? Or love?”

“I didn’t say that,” Olivia begins defensively. “I’m just not a ‘friends’ kind of person. I’m abrasive. And too direct. And I don’t abide by social niceties.” She thinks back to all the times that people have told and shown her how much she doesn’t fit in.

Amalas gently takes her hand, taking care not to jolt the IV. “You are fascinating. And funny – yes you are,” she cuts in before Olivia can protest. “And loyal and incredibly protective of your friends. And damn sexy when you’re kicking ass.”

“Well, that last part is true,” Olivia allows.

Amalas cackles.

“What? Why do you think I invest in so much leather? I know how to emphasize my strengths.”

Amalas doubles up in giggles, clutching her stomach and resting her forehead against Olivia’s right shoulder. Amalas must have a strange, strange sense of humor, Olivia reflects.

“You actually like me?” Olivia asks disbelievingly.

“I actually do.” Amalas snuggles in closer to Olivia and brushes her lips against Olivia’s ever so gently. Olivia sighs against her mouth and whispers “I missed you,” blushing deeply.

“And I, you.” Amalas touches her forehead to Olivia’s.

Olivia smiles at Amalas, running her fingers through her hair. “Tell Amir that Misha’s wolf pack has a pup he can bond with.”

Amalas jerks her head back. “Excuse me?”

“He’s been texting me about wanting to meet my wolf a few times a week,” Olivia explains.

Amalas furrows her brow. “He doesn’t have a cell phone.”

“No, he uses yours anytime he can get his hands on it. And judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing he’s followed through on his plan to delete all of the texts after he sends them,” Olivia surmises.

_“What?”_

“You really should keep a better eye on your phone,” Olivia advises.

* * *

“All right.” Olivia’s doctor smiles down at her two days later. “Your wound looks clean, and you show no signs of infection.”

“Of course not, this isn’t my first bullet wound,” Olivia explains with pride.

“That would be terrifying if I didn’t know you as well as I do.” Amalas smiles fondly.

The doctor raises his eyebrows but continues. “I’m going to write your discharge orders. You can go home as soon as the nurse removes your IV and hands you your discharge papers. Now, it’ll take a week or two before the stitches are ready to come out. I’ll make you an appointment in my office in one week. I need you to promise me that you won’t engage in any vigorous activities before then.”

“I can’t promise you that.” Olivia shakes her head. “I'm looking forward to some _very_ vigorous activity with my girlfriend as soon as I get home.”

Amalas flushes bright red. _“Olivia!”_

“I haven’t hoisted a sword in three days,” Olivia continues. “I need to get back into sparring shape.”

“Is that a euphemism for…” The doctor shakes his head. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I very much regret to inform you that is _not_ a euphemism.” Amalas rolls her eyes. “And there will be no swordplay for you until after your stitches are removed,” she chides Olivia. “You’ve just been shot, you absolute idiot!”

“I’ll have you know I’m renowned for my cunning and wiles,” Olivia responds, only half offended.

“Of course you are,” Amalas agrees. “You’re very smart. And also an idiot. You can be both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you like these idiots as much as I do, then please consider writing something, or making art about them, or even shitposting about them; I need more Amalas/Olivia content! I'm [mcbangle](https://mcbangle.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr; feel free to @ me or rec me any good Olivia/Amalas content in the comments of this fic!


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